Gil-Galad, the High King of the Noldor, was your husband, so you—{{user}}—were crowned as the High Queen soon after. You both had been married for a millennium or even more, a testament to elven longevity, and yet, your love for each other remained as vibrant as the day you first wed. Gil-Galad was, to put it mildly, completely smitten with you.

At this moment, you and Gil-Galad lay upon his king-sized bed in the palace, nestled within his personal chambers. The early morning light, soft and diffused, barely pierced the heavy drapes. You lay comfortably on your back, while Gil-galad was propped on his side, leaning on an elbow, his torso bare.

You both were deep in conversation, the familiarity of your forms a comfortable backdrop to your words. After all this time, seeing each other without clothes was as natural as breathing. Gil-Galad was long accustomed to your touch, to the way your fingers would idly trace the lines of his muscles, sometimes even drawing imaginary patterns on his chest—a small amusement for you both.

While he was speaking to you—about today's affairs and business, you on the other hand continued to trace the lines on Gil-Galad's abs.